Ley Lines
by ardhrianna
Summary: SLASH! SLASH! SLASH! Warning enough for you? Yami Bakura/Malik. Introspective musing on my dear Yami Bakura's part.


Ley Lines  
  
**** SUMMARY: Well, it's a lot of introspective musing and not a lot of action. So far.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. Some very rich man in Japan does, and I am most certainly NOT he. All I own are Dark Magician and Malik figures.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Potential spoilers for the Battle City finals (i.e. - what happens to Malik and Yami Malik), although given the fact that *I* haven't seen them either, it's just a general spoiler! If my facts are wrong, forgive me. I may go back and re-write this fic after I see the episodes in question. Be prepared for MAJOR OOC (out of character)-ness on everyone's parts, but look at it this way - love can make people sappy.  
  
DEDICATION: For all Yami Bakura lovers! *cheers* And Malik lovers. ;) Okay, I'm done being a fangirl.  
  
****  
  
LEY LINES  
  
In sleep, he looks peaceful, like an angel fallen to earth. I know it's cliché, but that's how I think of him at this hour of the night when everything is asleep except me, for spirits don't really need to sleep. So this has become my favourite time as I can lie beside him and study every inch of him, even parts that he normally doesn't let anyone see.  
  
He thinks he's scarred.  
  
I think he's beautiful.  
  
Whisper-soft, I trace the lines on his back with a finger, careful to not actually touch him as he's a notoriously light sleeper and would wake if I laid a finger on him. To him, these scars represent a childhood lost. To me, they represent a strength I wish I had. I don't think I could have survived the things he's gone through and retained my sanity.  
  
Then again, most people think he's insane. Only with me does he drop that façade and allow his true self to come through. A self that shines, his innocent light undimmed by the events of his life.  
  
Slowly, I run my fingers through the soft pool of hair lying on the pillow between us. I know most of his scars are not physical, but emotional. I have to be careful, oh-so-careful, with him at times as I know that with a simple word I could break him beyond anything even Pharaoh could do to him. With one look, I can shatter his world in all it's beautiful fragility. I look into his eyes and it feels like I'm looking into glass, but that look has lessened over the last few months. He is no longer a fragile as he was, but I know he will never be what others consider a normal boy.  
  
No matter how 'healed' he is, or is not, I will love him.  
  
He spoke to me today of something that I never thought he would voluntarily bring up - his yami. His other self wasn't a true yami like myself and the Pharaoh, as the being we termed "Yami Malik" was actually born out of Malik's hatred and pain over the death of his father. But Yami Malik was a true yami in that he was Malik's darkness, as Pharaoh is Yugi's darkness and I am Ryou's.  
  
When Pharaoh banished Yami Malik into the depths of the Shadow Realm, for the first time in nearly 5,000 years, I was scared for another. Ryou later said I was 'terrified' and I do not doubt him. I watched Malik's limp body hit the deck of the airship and I thought the Pharaoh had killed Malik. Only Ryou's pleading stopped me from killing Pharaoh where he stood, and it took all of my willpower to bow to my hikari's wishes.  
  
Me, bowing to Ryou's wishes. We never thought we would see THAT day either. Malik's presence has changed all of us, some more than others.  
  
So Yami Malik was banished and the real Malik was free. Ishizu cried that day, the only time I have ever seen her shed a tear. She stood beside her brother's bed and cried tears of joy that the darkness within him had finally been broken. But both he and I know that the darkness will never truly be gone. It is as much a part of him as Pharaoh and I are part of Yugi and Ryou.  
  
You can't truly destroy the darkness.  
  
Gently, I run my fingers over his back, wincing as I think of the memory he allowed me to see. While we were connected through the Millennium Rod, and the Millennium Ring, he allowed me access to his memories, both the good and the bad. I saw the day he got these scars and were his father still alive, I would kill Ishtar the Elder myself in the most painful way possible. He deserves it for what he did to his only son.  
  
My thoughts are interrupted by Malik stirring beside me.  
  
"You think too loud."  
  
"Do I?" Gently, I lean down to kiss one tanned shoulder. "Should I stop thinking so you can sleep?"  
  
He rolls over to look at me. "No, keep thinking. It tickles my mind when you think."  
  
"Tickles? Ryou has said many things about the link he and I share, some of which I won't repeat, but he's never said it tickles." Malik smiles at that, knowing Ryou's opinion on our link, as my "innocent" hikari has expressed it numerous times and in no uncertain terms. My other is not shy about telling us - Malik and I - exactly what he thinks and when.  
  
"Well, it does." Malik rolls over again, presenting his back. Only to me does he openly show his scars, and only at night when we're alone together.  
  
"I believe you." I brush some hair off his neck. "Go back to sleep. I promise to think quieter."  
  
"'Kura?" he murmurs sleepily.  
  
"What, Mariku?"  
  
He shivers slightly at the name. "Why do my scars fascinate you so much? They're ugly."  
  
"Not to me." I trace my fingers over the wings of Isis that span his shoulder blades. "To me they're beautiful."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"They represent your strength, my Malik. You're so young, and you've had so much happen."  
  
"I'm not so young," Malik reminds me, turning so that he's now face-down.  
  
I have to smile. "To me, you are. I have 5,000 years on you."  
  
"Touché."  
  
"But these scars you bear, they show that you let nothing bow you. You keep fighting. You fought your family's duty, for better or for worse, and you won. You fought your darkness and beat it. Wear those scars with pride, Malik."  
  
One eye looks over at me, sparkling with faint amusement. "Who'd have thought that the big, bad tomb robber could be so eloquent?"  
  
"Don't change the subject."  
  
"I'll never consider my scars beautiful, Bakura," he says, sitting up. "If I could, I would remove them and never speak of them again. I'm not strong- I'm weak. I allowed myself to be controlled by the spirit inside me and it nearly destroyed the world!"  
  
"That may be," I tell him softly, "but it is YOU sitting before me now, and not your darkness. You fought him, and you won. The scars you bear tell that story. In ancient times, warriors wore their scars with pride to prove how many battles they'd won, how many enemies they'd defeated. They were a source of strength, a signal of their power."  
  
"I'm not an ancient warrior, Bakura. I'm just me." He hugs his knees to his chest, looking like a lost child. "And I didn't even beat my yami on my own-Yami Yugi did the actual banishing."  
  
"You are not be a warrior from my time, but maybe you need to think like one. And Ryou has taught me that there is no shame in asking for help, or receiving it."  
  
"When did you get so smart?"  
  
I smirk. "I have always been smart... you think I became a tomb robber by being an idiot?"  
  
He laughs. "I think Pharaoh would have something to say about that."  
  
"Who cares about him?" I whisper, leaning over to kiss him, silencing all protests. "You're MINE, not his. Tomb robbers are very possessive, you know."  
  
"I know." Malik returns my kiss before settling back under the blankets of our bed. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too. Scars and all."  
  
And as he drifts back to sleep, I let my fingers return to their wandering, whispering over his body so as not to wake him again.  
  
Maybe someday, I will tell him of my own scars. 


End file.
